Rules of Engagement
by justaminuet
Summary: If given the chance, neither of them would've chosen the other for a partner. But sometimes, not having a choice works out in the end. Six/Holiday
1. Rules One Through Five

**Disclaimer:** _Generator Rex_ and all characters therein are owned by Man of Action. This story is non-profit, and done totally out of fun and love.  
_**Author's Note:**_ I had to start writing for these two, since I not only like the dynamic, but Six/Holiday actually includes my favorite phrase in shipping nowadays: Consenting adults. These are just all ficlets about random times, so they don't all go in chronological order. Hope you guys like!

**Rules of Engagement**

**Enthralled**

For the fifth time in about as many minutes, Agent Six gripped a squirming Rex by his collar, and forced him back into his seat.

"You were the one who insisted on meeting the new doctor when they arrived today," Six reminded him, terse. "So, sit still."

"Yeah, but," the boy pouted, crossing his arms, "I didn't think he'd take so long. This is boring!"

Taking 'so long,' actually translated to 'five minutes late.' And while that didn't excuse Rex's restless behavior, it still made Six's usual scowl deepen a fraction. Punctuality was something he'd come to expect from his coworkers (aside from Rex, because the only thing he'd come to expect from the boy was trouble and headaches). He'd have to have a talk with this Doctor Holiday when the man finally showed up.

There were other things to talk about with the new nanite expert, anyway. Namely, the young, mouthy ward they'd both be handling like two monkey trainers at the zoo. At least Bobo tended to stay in one place longer, and wasn't so apt to climb anything with a shelf. Six could not, for the life of him, figure out how one eleven year old boy could find every nook and cranny in such a sterile lab, and then manage to shove his body in there to play impromptu (and unwanted) Hide and Seek.

Rex had asked what happened to the other doctor that used to be Six's partner, an old, affable man named McCoy. The official story had been that he'd retired and moved to a nice, comfy condo in Florida. The real reason was that good old Doctor McCoy had suddenly went from a tiny, hunching bald man, to a huge, screaming monster made mostly of teeth and claws. Rex was still barely in training, and Providence wasn't about to risk losing its best tool in an attempt to recover an easily replaceable scientist. To his credit, Six had made the whole affair as painless and quick for the doctor as he could. Not that the thing that had nearly sliced his head clean off could really be considered McCoy anymore.

The lab door slid open with a hiss, and Six, despite himself, felt his left eyebrow arch. He hadn't quite known what to expect with his new partner. White Knight had only told him the doctor's name, and that they were an up and coming nanite expert that could best handle Rex's myriad of weekly tests. Other than that, he'd been left to wonder. Whatever Six may have expected, it certainly hadn't included a skirt and knee high boots.

Beside him, Rex let out a low whistle. "Dibs on the new doctor!" he murmured, already out of his seat and rushing forward to greet her with bravado.

The tall woman met the sudden slew of juvenile and utterly blatant come ons with an amused and gentle dismissal that was rather admirable. Six was already making plans to have Bobo be told that he needed to know when to _shut up_ around the kid, because there was no one else who spent time with the boy who'd teach him to say things like, 'If I followed you home, would you keep me?'

She finally made her way over to him, extending a hand as she gave him a warm smile. "Agent Six?"

Without returning the smile, he gave her hand a quick shake. Her grip was firm enough. He supposed. "Doctor Holiday."

**Remorseful**

The one thing that annoyed Six right off the bat with his new partner was that she was so emotional. No; he needed to amend that. She was so emotional, and she felt the need to tell him about her emotions whenever the mood struck her. Which was often.

"Sometimes, I think it's awful what we do," she said once, looking over bio readings from a test she'd performed on Rex earlier in the day.

"You think it's awful that we protect the world from rampaging EVOs." The sarcasm in his flat tone was unmistakable, but she expertly ignored it.

"I think it's awful that, at the moment, we're killing most of the EVOs we're coming into contact with," she clarified, taking a sip of her coffee. She liked it sweet like candy, no cream. It nearly made him gag the first time he saw her make it.

"It's a necessary factor. This is war."

"Is it?" He couldn't really tell which part of his statement she was questioning. Maybe both. "Out of all the EVOs Providence goes after, most of them were just normal humans going about their daily lives. It's not like they asked for it to all be taken away. Whatever happened to the phrase, 'There, but for the Grace of God, go I?'"

"Until Rex is able to fully utilize his nanite abilities, the best Providence can offer is to either contain or kill any threats."

"And when he does learn to control them enough to be useful, we'll start sending out a child to do adults work."

It wasn't that Six hadn't thought that himself, or that he was even okay with it. But reality would not turn into rainbows and puppies simply because the new doctor widened her big green eyes and asked for it to do so really nicely.

"We'll do what we have to do to win. It's not meant to be pretty; just effective."

"You have a very stark view of the world, Agent Six."

"You learn to remove your rose tinted glasses after working here."

"My glasses fell into the wishing well I threw all my pennies into a while ago."

"Then why still question the only methods available to us?"

"Because the moment I give up hoping one of those wishes comes true, is the moment I have to accept that the odds of us winning are ridiculously low. We're banking on a socially inept boy who doesn't even know his real name. Things like this only work out in movies and fairytales."

"Careful. You're beginning to sound like a scientist."

She seemed amused at that, then sad. However, she halted the conversation there with a shrug and her head turning back to her test readings.

**Heavy**

When she first got the job at Providence, she wasn't quite sure she was prepared for it. The primary reason being was that, she never went for an interview. She didn't even apply. One day there had been a letter in her mailbox congratulating her on recent breakthroughs in nanite research, and that she had earned a place in the Providence science facility. She was expected to be at her new job that Monday. The letter had made it quite clear that failure to show up would not be tolerated.

Oh, and they were changing her name to Doctor Holiday. They liked anonymity.

It was unnerving, to say the least. Yes, she had recently become obsessed with the development of nanites (if she was going to be infested with them, the scientist in her was determined to know how the buggers worked), but she hadn't thought her research had warranted any interest from outside sources. Certainly not from one as big as Providence.

Clearly, one of the higher ups had other thoughts on the matter.

Actually getting to Providence had been a rather interesting one. The Keep was a flying, metal monstrosity that held enough power in it to neatly destroy both the Americas with minimum effort, and she'd had to drive to the nearest air force base (with luggage in tow) to board it. The mere sight of it made her think she stepped into a Michael Bay film, and she wryly hoped that it at least meant there'd be some cute men on board.

She was terribly disappointed when her debriefing came from a Captain Calan, a lantern jawed man with a scar, and wandering eyes that lingered a little too long on her chest to make Holiday feel anything but contempt toward him.

Her disgust was quickly waylaid when he explained what her actual position in Providence would be. The government support for her nanite research she had expected. She'd even suspected that she'd be given actual EVOs to experiment on. She did not, however, predict that she'd be given a human one. Particularly an eleven year old boy who somehow had not only retained his sense of self, but could truly control his nanites.

It was like she'd been handed the Rosetta Stone. Only this one was broken, and the pieces were glass fragile.

A contradiction of interests that was as bright as the sun stood in front of her. The boy was easily the key to figuring out just how nanites worked, and how they'd eventually be able to control them. He was also just _a boy._

Doctor Holiday was a scientist, but she was still a human being that maintained what most people in Providence would consider an inconveniently high moral standard.

Meeting Rex made the situation all the more difficult. He was a fresh faced, bright eyed child with no memory and the social skills of a puppy. So eager to please, and so, so clueless as to everything that was going on around him. He'd figure it out with time, she suspected, but at the moment her top guinea pig was nothing more than an innocent little boy with a crush on her. It was heart breaking.

Of course, her co-handler (her partner?), Agent Six, seemed to have none of the worries and reservations she did. Orders were orders. Morals and emotions weren't to play a factor in it.

Agent Six, unlike Captain Calan, was lanky and had such proper posture, Holiday wondered at times if Rex's crude comment about a stick being shoved in a certain place wasn't quite so off the mark. He barely smiled, barked out orders to Rex like he was more a soldier than a child, and had the patience of a drill sergeant. He also had a tendency to talk to her at times like he found her only slightly less annoying than he did Rex. Once he'd made a comment that 'real scientists' wouldn't go around wearing short skirts (it was barely above her knees-- was he blind behind those glasses?) and it took a lot of self control on her part not to stab him in the arm with the needle she'd reserved for Rex.

The agency she worked for was secretive and stripped one of their identity, her main test subject was a child, and her partner was a jerk.

No, Doctor Holiday was not sure she was prepared for this, at all.

**Dismiss**

Six did not like Holiday's unnecessarily mothering attitude toward Rex. Holiday, in turn, did not like Six's gruff treatment of the boy. And no matter how many times they discussed it (and it was always a discussion, because Six never raised his voice, which Holiday found even more irritating than his stubbornness) they could never agree. So, they each took care of Rex in their own way. Six prepared him ('verbally beat' Holiday insisted) for the day Providence would eventually send him out on missions. Holiday took care of ('coddled,' Six once snapped) Rex's emotional growth. She'd be damned if he continued to be so clueless as to how to properly act around other people.

They both completely ignored the fact that their polar opposite ways of handling Rex's growth balanced to a degree that by age fifteen, the secret weapon of Providence could almost be passed off as a normal boy. Almost, if one overlooked the obvious.

Bobo had come very close to telling Six what _darling parents_ they made, but the withering look he had gotten from the usually sweet doctor gave him fair warning that the katana wielding agent would be even less forgiving.

**Awkward**

From very early on in her career at Providence, Doctor Holiday had decided that nothing would distract her from her new job. All things considered, she figured this would be a fairly easy task to accomplish.

She began to suspect she may be wrong one day when Rex had been making a few rounds in The Petting Zoo. He was getting the hang of a new hover jet-like machine he'd recently made ("The Rex Ride!" he'd declared with pride to her), and Six had thought a lap or two around something with real obstacles would be most efficient in the matter. Holiday had argued it was too dangerous, but Six had seniority over Rex's training, so the twelve year old had been thrown to the wolves, so to speak.

Or, to be more specific, to the plants, as one of them lashed out with a vine, crushing the already teetering ride, and sending the child flying. With an unprofessional shriek, Holiday was rushing over to her control tower, ready to hit any and all emergency buttons she could. She didn't care if she looked like a panicking fool. This was _Rex,_ and he was a boy, not a soldier, just a boy who maybe she had grown a bit fond of--

But the sound of metal efficiently slicing through air and tissue made her hand pause, and Holiday looked up and watched Six make quick, clean work out of what one could only now assume had been an EVO'd tree. It looked more like a pile from a lumber yard at the moment, and Six was already replacing his katanas as he snapped at Rex to pay more attention, was he trying to kill himself, and get up and get out before he caused another problem.

If she had just met Agent Six that day, Holiday would've seen his yelling as nothing more than a cold hearted man taking his anger and frustration out on a flinching child. However, she'd been Six's partner for a year, and she'd picked up certain personal ticks of his. The sudden stiffness of his shoulders. His hands tightly clenched. How his arm sharply jerked when he pointed Rex to the exit. The utter control in his voice.

Six hadn't been just angry. Six had been scared.

It was a revelation that, despite herself, made Holiday look at Six differently from then on. She'd seen a glimpse of something deeper than the frigid, stoic agent that he always showed, and she was curious and determined to find out if she could see more.

So, Holiday did what any good scientist would do. She formed a hypothesis (Agent Six actually has a heart), and then went about trying to prove it through proper observation and testing.

Her 'tests' consisted mainly of conversations, ranging from the inane ("What do you mean you never watched 'American Idol?'") to the serious ("Do you ever think we'll live to see the end of this?"). Anything to pull out something from him that consisted of more than just his normal scowl and monotone.

This usually failed. But that didn't mean Holiday was going to give up. No scientist worth their salt quit just because their experiment hit a bump in the road.

Until one time in the middle of the night --or was it early morning?-- when they were both filing reports, Six abruptly asked, "Is there something you want to say to me, Doctor?"

Her head jerked up, but he wasn't even looking at her. It was a rare occurrence for Six to initiate a personal conversation. The last one had been about her taste in music, and that hadn't ended well (seriously, what soulless person hated Madonna?). "Pardon?"

His eyes remained on his paperwork. "For the past few weeks you've been staring at me as if you expect me to suddenly grow extra limbs. So, unless you've had some sort of breakthrough in your nanite research, I'm assuming you have something to ask me."

Mortified would've been the only way to describe her at the moment. _He had noticed._ Well, of course, he had. He was Agent Six, and she was told the number actually meant something along the lines of 'there are only five people in the world scarier than him,' and she believed it. Still, she didn't think he paid that much attention to her to even notice a couple extra glances here and there.

To her credit, Holiday maintained her outward composure. She took a slow sip of her already cooled coffee, and calmly said, "I'm a scientist, Agent Six. Observation is what I do."

That made him look up. "You're observing me." Not a question.

"I observe everyone."

"I'm not an experiment, Doctor Holiday."

On the contrary, she wanted to argue. He most certainly was, and sometimes she'd wager a more interesting one than Rex.

"I'm not saying that you are." But she was thinking it. "I can't help my nature, though."

"I suggest you attempt to," he said, flatly. "I don't appreciate being stared at."

And that's when impulse, nerves, lack of sleep, and three cups of sugar laden coffee won out over good sense. "I don't see why."

An eyebrow rose above his sunglasses. "What?"

Holiday shrugged, unable to help herself from blurting out, "Well, I just don't see why you don't like being looked at. You're very handsome."

Somewhere in the back of Holiday's mind, the part of her that was still mostly awake and functioning screamed that she was a complete idiot, and then collapsed in a heap in some corner, lamenting about the good old days when she used to have a regular work schedule and at least seven hours of sleep at night. The rest of her brain did its best to stop her from suddenly stammering like a child and looking even more of a fool than she'd just made herself out to be. So, on the outside, Holiday just stared straight at her partner as if she had said the most normal, obvious thing in the world.

And that's when something interesting happened. Agent Six blushed.

It was light. So faint, that if Holiday had been any other person she probably would've missed it. But there was a definite pink tinge to his face for a good few seconds, before he turned away, huffed something about crazy, sleep deprived women, and then gripped his paperwork like a lifeline.

After a moment of confusion, Holiday felt a surge of triumph, and mentally noted that her hypothesis was one step closer to be proven true.


	2. Rules Six Through Ten

**Disclaimer:** _Generator Rex_ and all characters therein are owned by Man of Action. This story is non-profit, and done totally out of fun and love.  
_**Author's Note:**_ I had to start writing for these two, since I not only like the dynamic, but Six/Holiday actually includes my favorite phrase in shipping nowadays: Consenting adults. These are just all ficlets about random times, so they don't all go in chronological order. Hope you guys like!

**Rules of Engagement**

**Forward**

While she wasn't particularly a fan of Rex's amorous advances toward her, Holiday could at least appreciate the fact that she always knew where she stood with him. Rex was more than happy to make it very clear just how fond he was of the doctor, and even when he wasn't making ridiculous passes at her, he was at least honest.

Getting the same sort of candor from Six was near to impossible. The two of them had to work together to file weekly reports on Rex's progress, but it was Six alone who'd present their findings to the White Knight. Holiday was never quite sure just why she wasn't privy to the meetings, but she had a sinking suspicion that it probably had less to do with what exactly they were saying about Rex, and far more to do with her directly. White Knight seemed to treat the boy even less like a human than Six did, and he never did like it when Holiday would speak up about necessities like education and proper nutrition.

Usually though, no matter how hard Holiday would rail on Six, the man would not tell her what went on during his debriefing with their head boss. He'd skirt around the issue, mentioning that it was mostly about Rex's training, and she shouldn't worry. Which, of course, made her worry more, because Six never had anything good to say about Rex's training, or even his personality.

But Six was a wall made of well dressed flesh, and never gave in to her.

Except for one week. One week, during the first month they had started to send a fourteen year old Rex on small missions. An EVO that had once been someone's pet parrot was wreaking a bit of havoc in San Francisco Bay, and they were pretty sure Rex could handle this with little supervision. It wasn't human, it hadn't grown that large, and the area had already been evacuated by the time The Keep had arrived.

Of course, they hadn't accounted for the fact that the EVO's wings were now sharp as knives, and it had the ability to shoot them at any target it pleased. Which included both Rex as he made his descent, and The Keep itself. When the first blade made contact with the ship it sent Holiday straight off her feet, and she scrambled up, gripping her control panel for support.

"Doc?" Rex hollered over the intercom. "_Doc!_"

"I'm fine, Rex," she assured him, watching his bio readings spike. "Don't worry about me. Focus on keeping yourself safe."

That seemed to normalize him, but that didn't really help much with what happened afterward.

And what happened afterward involved two downed Providence hover crafts, one broken arm for Rex, and a katana through the EVO's skull courtesy of Agent Six. Oh, and about three million dollars worth of collateral damage to the bay area.

It was, in Six's own words, an 'unmitigated disaster.'

To make matters worse, it was a disaster that was broadcast on national television. And while most camera crews could not get in close enough to get a clear shot of who was fighting, anyone who worked at Providence could easily recognize the large mechanical hands that Rex could produce accidentally wasting a few buildings.

Six hadn't even needed to say anything. The look of pure shame and embarrassment on Rex's face while he was hauled off to the medlab was enough to halt whatever lecture the agent had had in mind.

Suffice to say, Doctor Holiday dreaded writing this particular report. Nothing had gone right, and Rex had made every mistake in the book. He'd panicked, hadn't listened to his commanding officer, gotten himself seriously injured, and pretty much all but helped the EVO destroy a good section of sunny San Fran. No matter how Holiday tried to sugarcoat it in her writing (and oh, did she ever, with copious use of the words "still a child"), Rex came out looking like a fool.

Holiday had tried to hint to Six that maybe this time she could actually be allowed to join in the weekly Rex report with White Knight, but Six either didn't understand or, more likely, ignored her implications. The day of, she tried the far more direct approach of grabbing his arm, and almost pleading. Much to her annoyance, Six's response was that her emotional outbursts were the very reason that White Knight didn't wish to deal with her, and he would take care of it.

Frustrated and at her wit's end, Holiday shouted at Six's retreating figure, "Am I the only one in this damned place with a heart? He's just a boy! You _do_ remember what being a child was like, don't you, Six? Or did you somehow skip that part of your life?"

He didn't even turn to her. Simply walked down the hall, and entered the briefing room without a word. Holiday had never wanted to throw something at his head more in her life.

She actually stayed outside the door the entire time the meeting took place. It was only an hour, but to her it felt like eternity. She had heard rumors about just how cold the White Knight could be if his agents didn't pull their weight. And while being fired and then black balled was horribly crippling for anyone, Holiday doubted that they'd simply let Rex go. Not when they could still use him for more scientific purposes.

Holiday wanted to believe that such a fate wouldn't befall Rex. That White Knight wasn't so cold as to eliminate a teenager. But the optimist in her was soundly beaten down by the scientist. And with the facts in front of her, Holiday wondered what it would take to sneak Rex out of The Keep, and how long they could survive on the run before being caught. Not that she had the slightest chance pulling off an escape attempt with Six around. She was sure she'd be the first one he took down.

She found herself holding her breath when the door finally opened, and Six emerged. She did her best to try to glare an answer out of him, but his poker face didn't falter. He walked past her with barely a glance. Furious, Holiday spun around, verbal venom on the tip of her tongue.

Six stood still, turning his head a little. "Rex is expected to double his training once his arm has healed."

Holiday blinked, not expecting that. "What?"

"We decided that the best course of action, given the results of his last altercation with an EVO, is that he intensify his schedule. I clearly haven't been training him adequately enough," he added.

She stared, confused. When realization dawned, her eyes widened. "You blamed yourself?"

"I am his superior officer," Six replied. "Not to mention his trainer. If he doesn't know how to properly respond in a crisis situation, then my teaching methods are to be questioned."

"You blamed _yourself?_" Holiday repeated. "In front of White Knight?"

"I think we've already established that."

"He didn't.... " she bit her lip, feeling silly, and awkward. "He didn't punish you, did he?"

"That's really none of your concern, Doctor Holiday," he said.

She flinched. That sort of answer pretty much meant he had, and Lord only knew what it was going to be. "You're going to be okay, though. Right?"

"I think I already told you I'm not the one you need to be worrying about," Six noted, and began to leave. "You just make sure Rex is back up and about as soon as possible."

"Right," she nodded, numb.

"Oh, and by the way, Doctor," he turned to face her, his stoic expression softened only by the slightest bit. "I do remember what it's like to be a child. _You_ just have to remember that Providence isn't really a place where Rex can afford to be one himself."

He left her alone in the hallway with those heavy words hanging in the air between them.

**Prowl**

While the term "aggro-nanny" was Rex's favorite way to describe Six (especially if the agent was in hearing range) "ninja in a suit," was the much more positive alternative he'd use.

Holiday was apt to agree. At least, that's what she told Six one day when he began speaking behind her, only to watch her jump in shock.

"You scared me," she declared, a hand to her rapidly beating heart.

He was a bit perplexed. "I wasn't trying to."

"I know," she shook her head, smiling. "But, you walk like a cat. I never hear you coming. One of these days I'm going to have to fix that, or I'll die of a heart attack. Maybe I'll put a bell on you."

Then she looked at him with a serious, contemplative expression that raised the hair on the back of his neck.

"Don't even think it," he warned.

He couldn't help but scowl at her obvious disappointment.

**Cut**

Getting their new EVO, Mel (or course, Holiday had to name him-- she childishly named all the animals) into The Petting Zoo had been a bit more of a chore than was first expected. Calan's group hadn't really thought the thing to be so quick, given its size, and they discovered the tasers they were using didn't do anything more than completely anger it.

Herding it into the pond would've usually been easy for Six (and he _had_ to get into the pond, not kill it, because if he killed it Holiday would nag him endlessly, and he already had a headache), but Calan and his group were experts at getting in his way at the most inopportune times. Six suspected on many occasions that Calan disliked him, but to be fair, Six suspected that most people in Providence disliked him.

And, as good as Six was, even the most skilled professional could only do so much when a co-officer was telling his group of lackeys to do the exact opposite thing they should be doing at the moment. Having to deal with avoiding Mel's attacks was one thing. Having to avoid Mel's attacks and friendly fire from about twenty soldiers was entirely another. Six was highly trained, and insanely limber for his age, but it came as no surprise to him when his luck ran out, and the claw bearing down on him actually made contact with his left arm, easily slicing through fabric and flesh.

Well, _he_ wasn't surprised. The same could not be said for Holiday, who's loud gasp echoed in his ear through their comlink. He gave her credit for not rambling at him then, opting instead to keep quiet and allow him to have his full concentration on the matter at hand. It took a few more well placed kicks (and he would reluctantly admit later that the constant fire from Calan's soldiers helped), but he eventually forced the EVO'd crocodile into the pond. The moment the creature hit the water it seemed pleased, calming down immediately and ducking underneath the surface without any more struggle. Six was almost offended by how quickly he was dismissed.

His arm was burning by the time he got back up to the lab, however it wasn't bleeding that much... Which should've been a warning, really, but he knew Holiday would want to give him a status report, and it was always easier to get it out of the way as soon as possible. He'd get it looked at after he satisfied her scientific curiousity. He made it three steps past the threshold, just in time to see the doctor turn to him, before the world went white and he collapsed on the ground.

Now, Holiday was rambling. First, shouting Six's name repeatedly as she rushed over to his limp form, then muttering scientific gibberish when she further ripped his already cut sleeve, revealing a very purplish bruise around his wound. And she kept on talking, getting more agitated by the moment, as she called to the medlab, demanding a team to pick up her unconscious partner STAT. She then requested Captain Calan's status in a voice so saccharine sweet, that the operator on the other end hesitated out of fear to give it to her. Ironically enough, he was in the medlab. He'd apparently gotten a mild concussion during the altercation.

Part of her (the doting part, the female part) wanted to stay by Six's side until help arrived. They were going where she needed to be, anyway. The rest of her (the scientific part, the_ raging female_ part), decided that she couldn't waste a moment's time, and forced her to storm out of the lab and away from Six's vulnerable form. She stalked down the hall with purpose, heels clicking as loud as gunshots, until she made her way into the medlab, making a beeline to Calan with all the fury of harpy.

Whether Calan didn't notice the murderous look in her eye, or simply wasn't impressed was unclear, but he greeted Holiday casually, almost like she was a bother. "Doctor Holiday. It's always good to see your pretty face, but as you can see I'm not in the position at the moment to debrief on-"

"I'm not here to listen to your bluffed up tale about how you and your rinkydink team so-called saved the day, when anyone with half a brain and functioning eyes could tell that most your commands put your people into more danger than less," she snapped. Holiday plowed ahead, not letting the commander get in a rebuttal. "Because of your faulty orders, Agent Six is being wheeled here on a gurney with God knows how much poison coursing through his body."

"Oh," Calan said, not quite following where the furious doctor was going with her tirade. "I'm sorry to hear that, but occupational hazards, and all."

That just seemed to make her angrier, if possible. She closed the gap between them, poking at his chest with each word. "You listen here, _Captain_. You are to get off your ass, take whatever's left of your team back into The Petting Zoo, and get a sample from one of Mel's claws so we can analyze it in the lab, and formulate an antidote for Agent Six."

He started at her, incredulous. "We're not going back there! That thing nearly killed us."

"If you don't go back there," she coldly retorted, "I _will_ kill you."

Calan lost the color in his face, but managed to edge back and give himself space. "Doctor Holiday, you're not thinking rationally at the moment. Now, I know this must be hard, given a woman's nature, but-"

Whatever else he was going to say was lost as she grabbed his collar, and yanked him back toward her now entirely livid visage. "Right now, Captain, you should not be looking at me like a woman. Right now, you should have it in your thick skull that I am technically a commanding officer, and I am _pulling rank._  
"You get your team in there, and get me my specimen. Because, I swear by all that I hold dear, if my partner dies because of your idiotic actions back there, I will gut you. With a spoon."

He fidgeted in her grip for a moment, uncomfortable and intimidated. The door behind them opened, and Calan looked over, desperate to find anything that might distract the enraged doctor and give him a chance to escape. Unfortunately, it was two EMT's rolling in Agent Six, whose arm was getting more discolored by the second. Instead of distracting her, it only fanned the fire Holiday was already burning with.

"You better be on your way," she said, releasing him with her hand but not her stare. "And you better hope that you get that sample I need. Or I will make your life miserable. What little life you have left, anyway. Just remember this entire place is run by machines," she snarled. "And I just happen to have an EVO in my care who can control them. It would be a shame if an escape hatch were to _accidentally_ open when you were passing it one day. Don't you think so, Captain Calan?"

He almost said that she wouldn't dare go through with such a threat, but the look on her face told him that might not be true. Instead, he scrambled up, pulled himself together the best he could with the doctor glaring daggers at him, and walked out of the room.

A week later, when Six was finally released from medlab, he bumped into Calan in the hall. The captain paled and whimpered, eyes darting around the agent in search of something or someone. Edging away from Six like there was a barrier of snakes between them, Calan muttered a good day, and hurried off to his destination. Six watched him go, confused, and made a mental note to ask Holiday if anything particularly traumatizing had happened to the captain during his down time.

**Compromise**

"I'm telling you, this is a waste of time," Six stated.

Holiday twittered her fingers at him, still hunched over her homemade cake. "You've told me that for the past week. And I still don't care. It's his birthday, Six."

"He has amnesia, Doctor Holiday," he said, annoyed. "We don't know his birthday."

"Okay, if you want to use semantics. But this is still the day Providence found him, right?" she asked. "So, it's the closest thing he has."

"He did just fine last year without one," Six sighed, not understanding why his partner was so insistent that they go through with this farce.

"That's because he didn't know any better. Which is awful, by the way. Here, do these," she thrust a bag of party balloons into his chest.

"You're kidding," he said, staring at the offending object in her hand.

She gave him a look that clearly said "humor me," and to avoid the badgering he'd surely get if he refused, he reluctantly took the bag from her. Pleased, Holiday went back to decorating the cake.

"Seriously, what twelve year old doesn't enjoy a birthday party?" Holiday asked, to which Six didn't answer because he already knew it was rhetorical. "I bet even you liked parties when you were young."

He shrugged. "I didn't really care for them."

Her head shot up. "Liar."

Six arched a brow. "Parties are noisy, and usually filled with people. If you couldn't tell, I'm not really a people person, Doctor."

She couldn't really argue with that. Holiday pouted a moment. "Well, this is just going to be a small, intimate party. Just me, you, Rex, and Bobo."

"Does the monkey have to come?"

"Yes, he does," she frowned at him. "He's the only friend Rex has!"

He tried to match her frown, but quickly gave up when he realized her mind was set on this, and she wasn't going to budge for anything. "Fine. But I'm agreeing to his inclusion under duress."

"Duly noted. Now, be helpful and blow up some balloons."

He looked down at the colorful party favors, and wondered just what happened during the past few months that made his position in Providence go from such high standing to being delegated to inflating balloons like a circus clown. Then he realized it had everything to do with the woman next to him, and really, his last partner had been much less of a hassle. Until he became an EVO and almost killed him, anyway.

As if reading his mind, Holiday murmured, "I appreciate this, you know?"

"Hmm?" He tied a knot on his first balloon, and flicked it onto the table.

"Helping me with this," she clarified. "I know this isn't really your thing, but it's important to Rex. And to me. So, thanks."

Admittedly, Six hadn't expected that. Holiday had been harping about Rex's "birthday," for a week and a half, and it became obvious to him after the first day that she was expecting him to be a part of it, no excuses. And it was always so much easier to just do what Holiday said, because it meant he could avoid listening to her complaining. He had enough of that from Rex already, and Holiday's complaints were worse because they were far more long winded, well analyzed and articulate. Which meant, while he could usually ignore Rex's childish whining, Holiday's griping actually managed to get on his nerves. Which he would never own up to, because the moment he did that she'd never stop.

So, to have her thanking him over something he had assumed she considered mandatory servitude made him pause. "Oh," he said, curt. "Well. You're welcome."

She gave him a bright smile then (the kind she usually reserved for Rex), and turned her attention to the developing spread on the table. "I think this will do. With more balloons, of course."

"Of course," he repeated, already knowing his lungs would hate him later on.

Holiday glanced at him, coyly. "I'll finish the balloons if you do the streamers."

She bought streamers. For the "small, intimate party" she planned. He almost questioned that. Almost. But this was Holiday, and that's just how she was. At least, that's how he justified it. Life went a lot smoother when he stopped trying to wonder why his partner did what she did, and just went along with it.

And maybe he felt an _iota_ of pride when she applauded as they finished with a few seconds to spare before Rex arrived, and told him he was an excellent party assistant.

**Impulse**

It wasn't that Doctor Holiday was unaware of the dangers that were included with working for Providence. She was without exaggeration, a brilliant woman, and regardless of her rosy outlook on life, she didn't ignore reality. Her job had risks involved in it that most others didn't, and she accepted them with as much grace as one could expect for a person who'd never so much as taken a self defense course at her local YMCA.

Six had to hand it to her. She adjusted to her job fairly quickly, and it only took a month for her to stop screaming when something from The Petting Zoo would climb its way to the windows of her lab and stare in at her. The flinching at that took a little longer to stop, but he wouldn't fault her too much on it.

So, Six was admittedly a bit surprised when he found Holiday looking like a pale husk of herself after a monthly meeting the Providence scientists had held the day before. He realized he had two options available to him. He could either ignore his partner's obvious distress, and just go ahead and discuss his weekly plan for Rex's training. Or, he could ask her what was wrong. He was reluctant to go with the ladder option, since he knew that would entail a long, emotional filled tirade from the doctor, and he just didn't think he was prepared for that this early in the morning.

But even as he told himself that, Six asked, "Anything troubling you, Doctor?" Might as well get it out of the way, he supposed.

"No, nothing," she muttered, staring at her now cold cup of coffee.

Well, okay then. He tried. "Then, let's talk about training. I was thinking this week Rex could focus on isolating-"

"They showed a video yesterday," Holiday interrupted.

Six sighed inwardly. Here, they go. "And?"

"It was of an EVO becoming active."

He wasn't quite following. "So? We have plenty of video of that in our archives."

"It was a baby, Six," she was gripping her mug so tight, her knuckles were white. "It was just a little baby."

Despite his usual and deliberate detachment, Six felt his stomach drop. "I see."

Her lips thinned, and there were ghosts in her eyes. "It was a home movie the parents were making. She was learning how to walk and... " Her voice seemed to die, choke and heave all in one strange, painful noise.

Six watched his partner sitting there, looking tiny and sick and tired and utterly haunted. He tried to think of something comforting to say, but nothing came, simply because there was nothing that could be said that would make what Holiday saw ever be okay. It would never be okay. Not to Holiday, not to anyone who witnessed the video, and certainly not to the parents who watched their tiny bundle of joy become a monster in front of their eyes.

Awkwardly, he reached his hand out to touch her shoulder, but stopped short. Physical consolation was not something he was comfortable with, and yet he didn't know what else to do in this situation. So he stood there, stiff and silent, feeling like a rather useless, cumbersome lump at the moment.

His hand was still inches from her though, and Holiday must've seen it out of the corner of her eye. She reached out, grabbed it, and much to Six's surprise, gave it a yank to pull him closer. It was a weak tug at best, and it wouldn't have taken much strength, if any at all, to ignore it and keep his distance. But it didn't feel right to deny her at the moment, and he allowed himself to be drawn closer. She placed her forehead on his arm, and released a soul wrenching sigh.

After a few minutes, she murmured. "Your hand is warm. I didn't think it would be."

"I'm not made of ice, Doctor," he stated.

Holiday gave him a shaky, fleeting smile, then placed her head back on his arm. After that, Six lost track of how much time they spent in silence. They definitely went past their allotted time for their morning meeting, and White Knight was quite annoyed when Six arrived late for a conference. But Six decided that, for once, it didn't really matter.


	3. Rules Eleven Through Fifteen

**Disclaimer:** _Generator Rex_ and all characters therein are owned by Man of Action. This story is non-profit, and done totally out of fun and love.  
_**Author's Note:**_ I had to start writing for these two, since I not only like the dynamic, but Six/Holiday actually includes my favorite phrase in shipping nowadays: Consenting adults. These are just all ficlets about random times, so they don't all go in chronological order. Hope you guys like!

**Rules of Engagement**

**Hush**

Privately, Holiday was a romantic at heart, with about a cabinet full of perfumes (many of which she hadn't even tried yet), and a wall lined with a ridiculous amount of romantic comedy dvds. And maybe some action flicks, since she couldn't imagine anyone who didn't like seeing Bruce Willis running around killing bad guys and blowing stuff up. But there wasn't a week gone by that Sandra Bullock or Julia Roberts didn't make an appearance on her television. And if she was having a particularly bad day, it was a double dose of Jennifer Lopez. Maybe even Renee Zellweger.

Maybe it was due to the serious nature of her job, but sitting down with some ice cream (and maybe some wine), and watching a fun, harmless fluff piece with absolutely no realistic expectations on how relationships actually worked never failed to lift her spirits. Holiday's favorite running cliche that seemed to appear every other movie was the scene where the two would be lovers were nearly caught being someplace they weren't supposed to be. They would hide together in a closet; it almost always was a closet, and a small one at that. All the better for them to be pressed up against each other, as they waited in tense silence praying that they didn't get caught. Of course, they would make eye contact, and the audience was supposed to know that they made this romantic connection in the middle of a very harrowing circumstance. It was ridiculous, and Holiday ate it up.

So, she thought it more than a little ironic that she found herself in a similar situation. She'd gone down to The Hole again, partially due to guilt, and partially because she always had to make sure with her own eyes that the deal was being kept. But on her way out, her tranquilizer gun had jammed, and the next thing she knew she was literally running for her life. Considering The Hole was deliberately put at a good distance away from any of the exits, and Holiday lived in two inch heels (they were fashionable, and she was _not_ giving them up), she was having a difficult time of it.

She supposed she shouldn't have been surprised when Agent Six showed up. Her partner seemed to have a near psychic ability to figure out just when she made her little trips. So much so, that Holiday more than once scanned herself for tracking devices. And while she usually told him to mind his own business regarding this particular matter, Holiday decided she'd definitely let it slide this time around.

He easily took care of EVO'd ostrich that had been following her, and Holiday had to marvel at how he could so efficiently knock anyone out cold with one precise kick to their head. With a sour look he snapped, "Let's go," and left her behind. Any other person would've been offended by his tone, but Holiday wasn't anyone; she was his partner, and she'd already noticed that his pace was far slower than he would've normally gone had he been by himself. He was allowing her to keep up and close to him, and she gave him a silent thank you for the thoughtfulness. If she bothered to say it out loud, he would merely shrug it off.

Of course, nothing ever goes quite that easily when dealing with the erratic behavior of The Zoo's inhabitants, and when they found themselves flanked by Mel's two children (Holiday still hadn't come up with names because she'd yet to figure out a way to tell them apart), Six actually let out a string of curses under his breath that made Holiday's eyebrows nearly hit her hairline. Given their positions, he couldn't effectively fight both of them off and assure Holiday's safety. Even if he resorted to plain killing them, the time it would take to slice one of their throats would be enough time for the other to tear the defenseless doctor in half. So, he did the only thing he had available to him at the moment.

He grabbed Holiday's hand, and sprinted into the forest, callously yanking her back on to her feet any moment he felt her tripping. He was not going to die today. She was not going to die today. But he was going to give her a damn big lecture on why she really needed to stop going to The Hole. Especially if she wasn't sure he was around, because he sincerely doubted Calan and the rest of his mooks would really be much help to her.

Holiday never really pictured Six to be one of those kids that climbed trees, but up he went like a monkey, hauling her up with him like dead weight. Her back smacked against the trunk, she felt the tree shudder, and without hesitation Six jabbed the handle of one his katana into the bark, warning the plant EVO to sit still if it knew what was good for it.

As it was, Six was pressed firmly against her, keeping her from falling off and killing herself. He smelled like sweat, and Holiday figured she smelled just as bad. She was high up in the air, the tree bark was digging into her back, and instead of bothering to even look at her, Six shoved one rough hand over her mouth to keep her silent when the two young crocodile EVOs reappeared. Holiday's nerves frayed. Those damn romcoms didn't have the slightest clue. This wasn't romantic, at all. It was smelly, uncomfortable, annoying, and terrifying.

If he had taken a moment to look, Six would've noticed the sneer on Holiday's face when he finally placed his hand down so he could retrieve his other katana. Now that the two crocs were close together, he could take them out easily. One well aimed jump would put him in perfect place to gut the two of them at the same time. Quietly as possible, he held both swords blades to the ground and prepared to hurl himself down. He felt a finger jab him in the side, and looked over to see the good doctor looking mighty angry. He looked at her, confused for a moment, and then it dawned on him. She didn't want him killing the EVOs.

Oh, she had to be kidding.

She crossed her arms and shook her head.

No, she wasn't kidding.

It was at times like this that he rather missed McCoy.

With a sigh, he flipped his swords hilt first, and dropped off the branch. Knocking the two EVOs out didn't quite guarantee them the safety he would've preferred, but at least he wouldn't have to listen to Holiday complain about his use of "excessive force." And somehow watching her try to scramble down the tree made it worth it. Though, he had to be subtle about it, because she had shouted the whole way down that she was in a skirt, and if she caught him looking she'd prove which one of them was really more dangerous.

**Morals**

She didn't really talk about That Day with anyone. Not her parents (who she barely had contact with anymore, thanks to her job, anyway), not the other Providence scientists (who would've given her mixed looks of pity and disgust), not even Six. Of course, Six didn't really like talks that would most likely end with her crying onto his shoulder anyway, so this was probably for the best.

Truthfully, if Holiday could erase the whole thing from her memory she'd think herself better off. But the moment that thought crossed her mind, the crushing guilt would come back full force, and she'd wonder what sort of horrible sister that made her.

Her sister hadn't become an EVO at the moment the disaster happened. Not even before Holiday had joined Providence. It happened a few months after, three to be precise. Late April, right after college let out, and her younger sister was looking for a summer job. She'd been pretty, and popular. Was a cheerleader, and majoring in English. Dreamt of being a famous writer. She'd write sci-fi novels. Big, successful ones. Call up big sis whenever she needed proper scientific techno babble. She loved chocolate chip cookies, the color pink, and rollerblading. She was sweet, and funny, and nearly perfect.

Holiday's sister had big plans, and big goals.

None of them included becoming an EVO in the middle of night, and nearly tearing their parents' home apart as their mother frantically called Holiday.

Their mother thought that Holiday's position in Providence would afford them some sort of guarantee that their youngest daughter would be given the kindest treatment possible. She was wrong. Faceless soldiers had barged into their house, destroying furniture, family pictures, and any other thing that got in their way as they tasered and tranquilized their once baby girl. They secured her down with rope, and hauled her into a cage that they then placed in the hovercraft they arrived in.

When Holiday's mother demanded an explanation to the harsh treatment, and didn't they realize who her other daughter was, one soldier looked at her and said simply, "Ma'am, that's the only reason that thing isn't dead."

Really, Holiday wasn't supposed to be part of the group who analyzed her sister. It was a conflict of interest, and entirely unprofessional. However, there was really no stopping her once she set her mind to doing it, and if the other scientists refused to let her into the lab while they were on the clock, then she'd simply work without them when they were off. Countless late nights spent in an otherwise empty facility, with only her thoughts and equipment to keep her company. Holiday was a genius, and she knew nanites and how they worked better than anyone else in Providence. All that meant in the end though, was that she discovered the truth before the others did.

It still didn't stop her from going back, hoping that maybe somehow, someway she'd missed something. She knew she hadn't, but she couldn't convince herself to not try one more time. And once more. And once more...

Then one night, when she nearly feel asleep over a petri dish, a cup of hot coffee was shoved into her face. She could practically smell the sugar in it, just the way she liked it, and grabbed at the cup with greedy, grateful hands.

"Thank you," she murmured, not having to look over to see who it was. There was only one person who knew how she preferred her coffee.

"How's it going?" Six asked.

She didn't answer him at first, instead taking a nice, long gulp of her offered beverage. "It's... not going," she answered, finally.

He raised a brow, but waited for her to continue when she wished.

"I've ran every test I could think of. Even a few I just came up with on the fly." She rubbed her temples, tired and nervous. "She's not curable."

A beat of silence, and then, "You're sure?"

"Of course, I'm sure!" she shouted, furious at the question. "You think I wouldn't make absolutely sure in this case?" Holiday spun at him, and her anger dulled as quickly as it appeared when she was met with his patient face. "Sorry," she muttered.

He nodded. "So, what now?"

No look of pity, no words of sympathy. Just straight to the point. And honestly, Holiday preferred it that way at the moment. She really couldn't bear other people's condolences. They always sounded so hollow to her ears.

"I don't know," Holiday admitted. "I'm technically not on this case, remember? But the others will figure it out eventually, and when they do they'll give the findings to White. Maybe he'll delegate her to The Petting Zoo?" she added, with childish hope.

"Maybe," Six offered, but she knew he was lying.

"You know, she's arachnophobic," she said.

"Oh?"

"She really hates spiders," Holiday looked at her mug, wistful. "Always screamed like she was trying to bring the house down when she saw one. Ironic, huh?" she asked with feigned mirth.

He watched her exhausted, gray tinged face for a moment. "Go to bed, Holiday. You need it."

"I don't think I can," she whispered. "I'm so tired I don't even feel it anymore."

"Trust me, you can," he said. "And you will. Now."

Any other time she probably would've given him a sharp retort for ordering her like an underling. But at the moment, all she could bring herself to do was sigh in consent. She took a few steps away, then stopped. In a weak, scared voice, she asked, "He's going to kill her, isn't he?"

Her only response was a repeated, "Go to bed."

She reluctantly did as she was told without further words, as she doubted she'd like what she'd hear. And even though she swore she'd stay awake the rest of the night, it took only a few minutes after her head met her pillow for sleep to take hold.

Even still, she was pretty much a zombie at work the next day, more going through the motions than actually paying attention to the goings on around her. She was nearly the same the day after, and it was almost midday before she realized that everyone who passed through tended to nearly plaster their face against the far left windows to The Petting Zoo. Curiosity eventually took hold, and she walked over to see what was happening. And what was happening was... well, she didn't quite know. There was a protective fence set up, and a bunch of workers building _something_, but she didn't know for the life of her what it could be.

When she questioned Six, he didn't even look up from his paperwork. "They're probably building a containment unit right now."

She blinked, confused. "But, isn't that what The Petting Zoo is in the first place? I don't see how-"

"This one's a bit more specific," he said. "It's going to be holding an EVO that probably won't get along with the others."

Holiday's eyes narrowed. "Those are usually the kind White has killed."

"Usually," Six agreed, still not looking up. "But I convinced him to make an exception in this case."

"And why would he make an exception?" she asked, still not following.

"Because the deal is that as long as it doesn't kill anyone, it's fine. Of course, its sister has to agree to the deal, and sign this contract I'm looking over right now. Care to look at it?"

Holiday stared at the papers he was handing her, then at Six, and back at the papers as the weight of his words finally hit her. She felt embarrassed for sputtering, but it was all she could manage as she took the papers from him with shaking hands.

"Don't look at me all grateful," Six warned her. "This whole thing hinges on you signing those papers. You're signing not just your sister's, but _your life_ away to Providence, Holiday. White's going to expect you to play nice no matter what from now on. Do you understand?"

She wanted to read the papers, to know exactly what they said and what they meant for her and her sister's futures. Just how badly she was damning herself to the side of the devil she knew. But her eyes were too blurry with tears, and the only thing she found herself capable of doing was throwing her arms around her partner and holding him as tightly as she could.

"Thank you. Thank you. _Thank you._"

He huffed, and shuffled awkwardly bit in response. But Holiday would swear later on that, for a second, he placed his hand on her back in comfort.

**Engage**

One had to hand it to Rex that he was never without at least one come on to send Doctor Holiday's way when he went to visit her. Between them, and his suggestive, wiggling eyebrows, Holiday was amazed her eyes hadn't fallen out of her head with all their rolling.

"You are so hot, I think I might get a tan."

"You know, if we ever get married, I wonder if God will be angry I stole one of his angels."

"And in walked the sunshine!"

"You know even without the halo, you can't fool me."

The more ridiculous they got, the more amused she would become, which would only encourage Rex to continue with as many cheesy one liners as his young mind could come up with. Which was an impressive amount, all things considered.

One day Six went to retrieve his charge, and interrupted the boy's one man show, much to the thirteen year old's chagrin.

"Stop harassing the doctor, and let's go," Six demanded "We've got training to do."

"It's not harassing," Rex pouted. "It's wooing. _Wooing_. Not that you'd know how to make the ladies swoon," he shrugged, getting up off the bench he was sitting on, and past both Holiday and Six.

Six watched the boy, then looked at Holiday. "Did you ever just tell her she looked pretty?"

"'You look pretty?'" Rex repeated, then scoffed. "That's so lame and boring! What girl would fall for that?"

He failed to turn around and notice the very obvious blush that streaked across Holiday's face as she gawked at her partner. She hadn't been simply told she was beautiful in a long time. Between Rex's childish pick up lines and Calan's lude stares, she'd forgotten what it was like to be, without any frills or pomp, genuinely complimented. She actually stopped breathing for a second from the shock, and the realization of that made her embarrassed and her blush even more pronounced. And while she wouldn't admit it out loud to anyone ever, she felt her heart skip just a little when Six smirked, before turning around and walking away, shoving Rex out the door when he thought the boy was moving too slowly.

**Voice**

For the most part, Six did not mind spending late nights with Doctor Holiday, going through cases, and finishing off paperwork. She was quick, was a respectable conversationalist (the times he wanted to have a conversation, anyway), and knew just how he liked his coffee; heavy on the creamer, no sugar.

If there was one thing that did get on his nerves, aside from her occasional outburst of emotion, it was the habit she had developed when Rex had left a radio in the lab, and never bothered to retrieve it on account of him being in there so often. If it was a particularly long night, Holiday would turn on the radio. And it wouldn't be to a respectable classical station, like the ones she listened to during the day. Oh, no. Instead, it was always to some obnoxious, pop-rock station, the kind with the horrendously loud and pushy dj's that wanted to make you believe that the latest bubblegum sensation was the most brilliant talent in the music industry, and hey, follow them on Facebook and Twitter, why don't you? And worse, not only did Holiday enjoy this ridiculous ear candy, she would sing along to it. Without fail, ten to fifteen minutes after she hit the "On" switch, she'd be humming. Two minutes after that, flat out singing.

She wasn't bad, he supposed. She could actually carry a tune, and there were even some songs he dared to say she sounded very... _pleasant_ on. Of course, he wouldn't admit to that unless being subjected to medieval torture. And even then he'd probably hold out until they threatened to cut off limbs. But there was just no excuse anyone in the world could come up with to justify a genius with a masters degree in biochemistry singing along with Lady Gaga. There just wasn't.

He had just suffered through a Justin Bieber song, and before Six gave into the urge to fling one of his katanas at the offending radio, he thought maybe he could take a more diplomatic approach.

"Could you stop singing those damned songs?"

Well, not exactly what he was going for there, but it did succeed in stopping her, as she looked up from her papers, surprised.

"Pardon?" Holiday asked.

"Could you stop singing to every song that plays?" he asked, not bothering with a "please," because he figured he'd been musically punished enough the past month not to need it.

"Am I singing?" she tilted her head. "I didn't even realize I was doing it." He could tell that was a lie because she thinned her lips, and she only did that when she was trying to keep them from twitching into a guilty smile. He figured out that tick months ago. She suddenly made eye contact, a coy expression forming. "Am I good?"

He raised a brow, and resisted answering with "Depends on the song," because really, Holiday was clearly a mezzo-soprano, and she was just not cut out for Kelly Clarkson. Instead, he went with, "Not really the point here, Holiday."

She pouted. "All right. I'll pay more attention to my vocal habits."

"Thank you," he nodded, satisfied.

They fell into amicable silence, aside from the music, as they went back to the reports they were handling. But about fifteen minutes later, Six felt his lips twitch into a frown. She was definitely humming.

"Holiday."

She placed her hands on her hips, defiant. "Let's be reasonable here, Six. This work is mind numbing, and you know it. Sure, this isn't exactly great music, but it's catchy. And singing is keeping me awake. Besides, it's Beyonce! Just this song?"

She had a point. Mozart and Wagner had their place, but he'd probably be asleep by now if that's what was filtering through the radio's speakers at the moment. He supposed he could live through an admittedly not so bad rendition of "Single Ladies" if it meant he could have peace for the rest of the night. "...Fine. But I'm turning the radio off after this song."

"Fair enough."

**Lower**

Six was used to his line of work. In fact, he'd built his entire training schedule around it, and while it didn't give him much, if any, leisure time, it did produce results. He might not be the youngest that Providence had to offer, but they'd have a hell of a time trying to find someone better for pretty much any job they needed handled. Which his exactly how Six liked it.

He did not, however, like the part where his body reminded him that no, he wasn't in his teens anymore, and no extreme exercise regiment could completely stop the hands of time. His back in particular seemed to love reminding him of this little fact, though he figured it would probably not hurt so much if he wasn't slamming it into hard surfaces (both vertical and horizontal) as often as a stuntman.

Not that Six ever complained about any little aches or pains. For one thing, he didn't need nor want any of the other agents in Providence thinking him past his prime. He had effectively instilled a well balanced mixture of fear and respect into them over the years, and he wanted to keep it that way. For another, Six just wouldn't admit to weaknesses. The moment you do that, and you didn't know who would take advantage of it. He'd rather keep it to himself, do a couple extra stretches at night, and call it a day.

He thought he was good at hiding whatever ailed him, even on this particular day when he wondered for a while if he might had actually just gone and thrown his back out. He knew he felt something _pop_ when he'd gripped the edge of the building he'd nearly been thrown clean off of. And now that the adrenaline of the fight was wearing off, he could definitely feel it. Maybe not quite as bad as he initially thought, but he'd surely done something, and it made the act of sitting a rather interesting one.

Still, he did it without flinching (Six didn't flinch. Ever), and started his routine paperwork.

And then nearly crushed said paperwork in his hands, when he felt Holiday's own fall upon his shoulders.

"What do you think you're doing, Holiday?" he asked, irritated.

"What did you do to your back?" she countered. "You're stiff as a board."

"I don't know exactly," he admitted, spine aching when he tried to get her hands off him with a shrug. "And I'm fine."

"You know," she pressed down, holding him still, "you're not very good at lying. To me," she added.

He raised a brow, despite her not being able to see it. "Doctor Holiday, if you would be so kind as to-"

"Be quiet and don't move," she ordered, gentle but firm.

Six was going to retaliate (she was not the senior officer, after all), but his brain ceased to function for a few seconds when Holiday's hands began to pleasantly knead his back. And when his brain finally kicked back in, it struck him that _his partner was giving him a massage,_ and this was entirely inappropriate for so many reasons, and he didn't care that she had "doctor" attached to her name, she was a scientist not a massage therapist, and they were coworkers, and she should know better, and- and-

And she was really good at this, actually.

He could feel all the tension slowly ease; the aching muscles in his back relax, and the knots that had formed during the stress of the day loosen. And when she found the particular spot that had been giving him the most pain (and he didn't know how she did it, since he certainly didn't give it away, and it made him wonder just how well she knew him), she spent extra time on it, nimble fingers and the heel of her palm practically working magic until he accidentally released a sigh of relief. He felt near boneless by the time she finished.

When she sat back down, she asked him, concerned, "Better?"

"Yes," he said, shortly. And then, with a bit more irritation, "Don't do that again."

Holiday blinked a few times, and he could swear she fought back a smile. "Yes, of course. Sorry for being so forward."

And that was it. They went back to their paperwork in easygoing silence. At least Six told himself that was it. Even though he became very frustrated with himself, as his mind kept wandering from the task at hand, to remembering Holiday's hands on his back, and then imagining just what else those dexterous limbs of hers were capable of. It did not help that she kept one hand on the table the entire time, slender fingers drumming away. Suffice to say, his focus was shot for the rest of the night.


	4. Rules Sixteen Through Twenty

**Disclaimer:** _Generator Rex_ and all characters therein are owned by Man of Action. This story is non-profit, and done totally out of fun and love.  
_**Author's Note:**_ I had to start writing for these two, since I not only like the dynamic, but Six/Holiday actually includes my favorite phrase in shipping nowadays: Consenting adults. These are just all ficlets about random times, so they don't all go in chronological order. Hope you guys like!

**Rules of Engagement**

**Plead**

Following orders and protocol was second nature to a man like Agent Six. He was trained to respect the chain of command, and never to question it. And for years, he did just that. He was the perfect, obedient soldier. Every mission done by the letter, all "I's" dotted and all "T's" crossed. In fact, if he hadn't shown outward signs of natural aging, he supposed the old rumor that he was actually an android probably would've stuck around a lot longer than it did.

It wasn't that he didn't have his own thoughts and opinions. He did, on just about everything. It was just that Six knew better than to voice a dissenting one to his superiors. In his line of work, speaking out of turn was a good way to retire early. And no one who retired early did so still breathing. No matter how talented the solider, there was always someone out there who could efficiently replace them. So, Six made sure they never had a reason to do so to him.

He wondered when his attitude about the whole situation began to alter. When did he start actually caring about Rex's emotional state, even at the expense of a mission? When did he start lying to White Knight to cover up for the little ragtag team that he got assigned to?

"Six, can you please stop making that face while Rex is training?" Holiday asked beside him, portable monitor in hand.

"And what face is that?" he frowned.

She pointed an accusing finger at him. "That one. That look of total displeasure. Rex is doing fine. Stop glaring at him like he's making mistakes left and right. His biometrics drop whenever he looks at you. You're making him nervous."

"Are you telling me that if he crashes out it's my fault?" Six questioned.

"In short, yes," Holiday nodded.

He grunted, annoyed.

"All he wants is your approval," she pushed. "It couldn't hurt to give it to him every so often. Especially when he's doing a good job."

"I'm not here to give him pep talks. Or help him with his math homework, or drive him to school," he added. "I'm not his father, Doctor Holiday."

"True. But, you're the closest thing he has," she said. When he turned to stare her down, he found her more than prepared with her own glower. "I'm not asking you to go outside and have a catch with him, or do some other male bonding activities. I'm just asking you to spare a few kind words. Really. Would it kill you?"

Well no, it wouldn't. But the point was that he wasn't _that_ type of guardian, and Rex wasn't _that_ type of ward. That his orders from the top were to keep Rex in line, and to make sure he did his job at maximum capacity. He wasn't supposed to grow attached, because there was no guarantee that either of them would still be around in a couple years. Wars tended to throw away certainties. Besides, Six knew all too well the drawbacks of becoming emotionally invested in people who worked in the same field he did.

But there went Holiday, giving Rex an all sunshine and kittens greeting when he finished his final lap, telling him how well he did. Broke his best time, even. And Rex seemed pleased, and blushed at the attention, while Six did his best not to roll his eyes. He'd known the boy was going to beat his flying record about halfway through the course. He was taking his turns a lot sharper now. Must've finally gotten used to how his jetpack worked. He could've done better, though. He kept elevating when he didn't have to, losing speed as he did so. He liked to joyride too much. Too busy showing off for the good doctor to actually handle the track seriously.

And Six had all the plans in the world to tell Rex his little critique, until both the boy and doctor looked at him expectantly.

"Don't you think he did well, Six?" Holiday asked, and the look in her eyes begged, _"Just this time, please?"_

He looked at the boy, all thirteen years of him, and watched as Rex's eyes slowly went from meeting his hopefully to looking at the ground in resignation. Unlike Holiday, Rex held little expectations save for the negative comments he was used to getting. But that didn't mean that Six missed the looks of optimism the child showed every so often. It was getting harder and harder to ignore them. Especially when he had a certain doctor constantly talking his ear off about it.

Finally, Six cleared his throat. "It was okay," he said, gruff. "It needs work, but it'll do for now."

Six supposed he could give the boy that.

And it seemed to be more than enough for Rex, who beamed like he had just been told he was going to have chocolate and ice cream for dinner. Holiday, in turn, gave Six a grateful smile, before telling Rex that he was done for the day. As Rex ran past him, he caught Holiday walking to him out of the corner of his eye.

"Thank you," she whispered.

He shoved his hands in his pockets, turning away. "I didn't do that for you."

"I know. You're a good man, Agent Six," she said, patting his arm before walking away.

It was supposed to be a compliment, and he knew he was supposed to take it as such. But being a good man didn't necessarily make one a good agent. In fact, one rarely could be both. He really needed to stop listening to his partner, before she got him killed.

**Caring**

Growing up in a family that was very open in their affection, Holiday unsurprisingly turned out the same way. Not that she didn't keep up proper decorum in the workforce, but when your main test subject was a soon to be sixteen year old boy, it was hard to be purely professional. She figured given time Rex would eventually grow out of his crush on her. And while that seemed somewhat true, he never completely stopped with his compliments. A part of Holiday couldn't help but feel a little happy.

And then there was Agent Six, who did anything but flatter her. At all. Something that Rex could not get over, and more than once the teen would mutter, "I don't get how someone can work with a hot babe all day, and never smile."

Holiday had to reassure Rex that she was quite used to the agent's behavior, and no, she found nothing wrong with it. And yes, really, she wasn't lying.

Really, she wasn't.

Six was not meant for those types of words or displays. He had tried holding her hand in public once, likely to humor her, and he had been awkward and uncomfortable the whole time, until she showed mercy and released him, watching him pull his hand back in relief. At the moment, she'd felt stung. Soon, however, she began to realize that it had absolutely nothing to do with her, and everything to do with what type of man Six was.

It's not as if she went into the relationship thinking that Six would suddenly changed. She didn't, and he didn't, except for a few obvious exceptions. But maybe Holiday had still held out hope for a little something more. Some sort of sign that she wasn't wasting her time, or just conveniently there to satisfy certain needs.

The rumor mill in Providence didn't help matters. With the way gossip spread like wildfire, Holiday would've figured that she worked with a bunch of chatty office staffers instead of highly trained agents and scientists. She supposed it was to be expected, given that the organization had so many missions and programs that were either on a need to tell only basis or flat out top secret. If you couldn't talk about your work, you talked about your coworkers.

And her fellow scientists were usually the worst in the bunch. Not surprising, since they were normally stuck in labs together for ridiculously long hours, with only their readings and test tubes to keep them occupied. They did seem to love talking about her, and Holiday couldn't quite figure out if it was due to jealousy given her standing, or honest curiosity. Probably a bit of both. Of course, they never deliberately gossiped about her when she was around, but tired brains equal loose lips, and things slipped out from time to time. She comforted herself in the knowledge that they didn't really know if she and Six were together. If Agent Six didn't want people to know something, they didn't know it. In fact, her coworkers had suspected them to be a couple well over a year before Holiday had summed up the courage to confront Six about their relationship; and yes, it had been a confrontation, because Holiday knew the only way to get an answer out of Six when he didn't want to give one was to corner him and not let him go. Really, her fellow scientists didn't need to know that the beginning of her current love affair (if she could call it that) involved what was almost an interrogation.

That didn't mean she was entirely immune to the whispers that floated about. Especially the darker ones. She would've had to have been made of stone not to be somewhat unnerved about them. After all, who wanted to think that the only reason their significant other stuck around was because they ordered to? That he continued the relationship only to make sure she remained placid and obedient?

No, Holiday didn't like those particular rumors, at all.

But that was okay, because Holiday reminded herself that her coworkers simply didn't know or understand Six. They probably never would. If they did, they would have noticed all the things she did. Like how he started standing behind her chair during morning briefings. Or how he'd always restock the sugar container at the coffee station if it was empty, even though he never touched the stuff himself. How he'd hold a door a few seconds longer than he normally would if he knew she was behind him, then let it swing in the face of whatever unfortunate soul happened to be behind her.

There was nothing earth shaking. No fireworks, candlelit dinners for two, or moonlit strolls on the beach. Just chairs being pulled out, a hand being offered when she was getting out of a car, and if she had dolled herself up particularly nice for the evening, an offhanded compliment.

Holiday supposed it was a good thing she never really dreamed of a knight in shining armor or a prince charming. She certainly didn't get either. But she was quite content with the man who scowled more than he smiled, didn't think twice about barking out orders to a hotheaded teenager, and would wake her up early in the morning going through his numerous katas. Because he would stop what he was doing when he noticed her eyes on him from the bed, casually offer her a cup of coffee (always already prepared), and would brush her tousled hair out of her face when he gave her the drink. During those moments, before the sun had even risen and she sat there with a steaming coffee mug in her hands, Holiday was certain she wouldn't want the man next to her to be any other way.

**Believe**

"What are you doing, Holiday?"

Six normally wouldn't ask such a frivolous question. Normally wouldn't say anything at all unless he felt he had to. He wasn't a talkative person to begin with, and when his mood soured (which, granted, didn't take much), he became even more prone to brooding silence. Being forced to go on all of Holiday's little excursions out shopping to ensure her safety -and even more importantly, her return- never failed to make him miserably mute. It's wasn't that he didn't appreciate the doctor's company, but he already had to baby sit an authority hating teenager. He certainly didn't need to watch over a grown woman too, did he?

But there she was, staring up at the sky with a wistful expression, and the question came tumbling out of his mouth before he could stop it.

"The first star of the night is out," she answered, like it explained everything.

It didn't. "So?"

"So, I'm making a wish."

He didn't even bother hiding his incredulous look. "Aren't you a little old to believe in magic, Doctor?"

Holiday waved a hand in dismissal. "Shush. I used to do this all the time with my sister," she smiled, sadly. "She used to say the harder you wished, the better your chances of it coming true."

As he watched her with her bittersweet face, Six realized this wasn't really a matter he should try to debate on. So, he took a safer route. "What are you wishing for?"

She finally turned to him with eyes wide, and waggled a finger. "I can't tell you that! It won't come true."

"Really, now?" He couldn't help but raise a brow.

"Really," she folded her arms. "You better make your wish, by the way. It won't count if another star appears."

The need to argue against such a childish act rose up again, but somehow it just didn't seem worth the effort. Even if he bothered trying, Holiday would pout, and tilt her head in that way that somehow made her look possibly pretty to him (and only _possibly_, thank you), and then she would tell him he really needed to lighten up. So, like he always did to save himself unneeded frustration, Six just went along with her whim. Pushing his glasses up a moment to wearily rub the bridge of his nose, he cast his eyes towards the lone speck of light in the darkening sky.

"And don't wish anything bad on Rex."

He scowled. "I wouldn't think-"

"Or Bobo!"

The scowl deepened and mixed with disappointment. "...Fine."

**Found**

Three minutes, twenty-three seconds.

"Six? Six, respond."

Four minutes, thirty seconds.

She tried again. "Six! Answer me!"

Three minutes, forty-seven seconds.

The call on this operation had been desperate. The EVO large. Larger than they were used to, and in the middle of the ocean, no less. They'd usually not rush in for something so far from land, but it had already taken out two cruise liners, and something had to be done. Whether it used to be a squid or an octopus had been argued back in forth jovially between Rex and Bobo until they had arrived at the drop zone, and had actually seen the size of it. Suddenly, it wasn't funny anymore.

Of course it didn't seem to phase Six, who had simply gotten on to his hover board, snapped out orders over his commlink, and took off. Rex had soon followed.

Holiday had kept a close eye on both Rex's biometrics and the video feed she was getting. Something about the EVO made her unusually uncomfortable, as she watched the water darken around it from its ink as it was attacked, and she just wanted this fight to be over with as soon as possible. But that wasn't in the cards, because whatever the monster used to be it had far more tentacles now, and was more than willing to use them all at the same time. Holiday had never seen so many hover craft be taken out so quickly. And she could only watch with horror as they erupted on the water's surface from the gas that had managed to leak out of cracked fuel tanks.

The explosions, however, did double duty, as they not only took out whatever unfortunate Providence agents happened to be nearby, but also did a great deal of damage to the EVO. Dying, it thrashed out in its death throes, whipping about desperately, before finally succumbing to blood loss, its remaining tentacles hitting the surface hard enough to cause breaking waves.

"Rex?" Holiday prompted over their link. "Are you all right?"

"Fine, Doc," the teen responded, voice a little shaky.

She watched his biometrics dip a little, and she gripped her station's panel. "Rex, are you sure you're okay? Are you injured?"

"I-I don't see Six," he said.

Holiday felt her heart drop. "What?"

"He got hit off his board right before the explosion," Rex explained, tone rising with panic. "I'm looking everywhere, and I don't see him. I don't know where he is! _I don't know where he is!_"

"Rex, keep calm," Holiday ordered, for herself and for the teenager. "Just keep looking." She switched the frequency on the communications line. "Agent Six, this is Holiday. Do you copy?"

Thirty seconds.

No answer.

"Six, I repeat, this is Holiday. Please, respond."

Silence.

And it had remained that way for going on four minutes, with Rex stubbornly flying around the wreckage, and Holiday sending out at constant stream of response calls. She was beginning to feel sick, and dizzy.

"Answer me, please, Six!"

Four minutes, fifteen seconds.

She needed to sit down, or get some fresh air. When did it become this hot in the room, and when did her legs begin to feel like they couldn't support her anymore?

Four minutes, twenty-five seconds.

Her heart hurt. No, her entire chest was aching. On fire. Her throat was tight, and her breaths came in shallow gasps. The scientist in her knew she was having a panic attack, and that she should order someone else to take care of communications. The rest of her gripped her microphone like a vice, and tried again.

"Agent Six, respond!"

Four minutes, forty-two seconds.

This wasn't right. It wasn't right, at all. Even though she knew it wasn't really true, Six had always come off like some unstoppable force of nature. If he wanted it done, it got done. He may get injured from time to time, but nothing in the world could ever take him out permanently. It just didn't seem possible. He was like an immortal legend among his colleagues, and some random EVO out in the middle of nowhere should not have the honors of being the one that changed that.

"Six, please! Please, _answer me already!_"

Five minutes, six seconds.

Holiday clenched her chest, a sharp pain stabbing through her. But Six was human, she reminded herself. She didn't care how well trained he was in so many martial arts that she had nearly fallen asleep the night he had tried to list them all for her, he wasn't some undying god. He was all too human, and no one could stay under water for so long without-

Her commlink crackled to life in her ear. "Six here," was the coughed, wet response.

If she hadn't had already been holding onto her computer console for dear life, Holiday would've fallen to the ground as her legs finally gave way. Instead, she leaned forward eagerly, as if she could somehow pull the man right out of the microphone in front of her. "Six!"

"I said I'm here, Holiday," he grumbled, and she could hear him cough a few more times. "I'd appreciate it if you stopped shouting in my ear, by the way."

Somehow, the grumpiness of his tone brightened her mood considerably. "I'll make a note of it, Agent."

**Shield**

Over dinner once, Rex had told Six and Holiday about the Zag-RS program that had attempted to cleanse the world of nanites through mass genocide. Holiday had found it fascinating at the time. The thought of a computer program's AI developing that far to seek out what it considered self preservation was something any scientist would like to study.

Really though, Holiday had no desire to study it in such an up close and personal manner as her own lab room in The Keep.

She had to give it credit. It had taken control of the airship so fast, no one had time to prepare or form a proper counterattack. Before it had locked her out of the server completely, Holiday noted that it had even gone through all her data on Rex, and had taken the necessary measures to make sure that his nanite controlling powers would do him no good in taking back the ship. And then the doors had all locked, and the lights went out.

For a moment, Holiday feared that it was going to simply crash The Keep into the earth. And maybe it still planned it, but she didn't feel them descending, and that actually made her more worried than before. While the ship wasn't Providence headquarters itself, it still held a massive amount of equipment, all of it routed to every server the organization had. If Zag-RS wanted to, it could easily take hold of every base Providence controlled on the planet. That was... a lot of places. Many of which housed their own Petting Zoo. The chaos that could be unleashed was potentially catastrophic.

Instead of standing there and waiting for whatever the program planned to do to come to fruition, Holiday decided to fight back as best she could. She wasn't a computer expert by any means, but she could still take a chair and smash a few important towers full of nanite research where she was. It might not do anything in the long run (she didn't have a clue if it would affect anything else going on in The Keep. she really should've paid closer attention to the tech guys the last time they were there), but she hoped it at least angered the program. Holiday never liked being the damsel in distress.

And apparently, anger it she did, as she felt cold metal grip her throat, and yank her backwards to the ground. Her head hit the floor hard enough to see stars.

"_Please, don't do that,_" she heard a feminine, stilted voice plead. "_It's bothersome._"

If she had the breath to do so, Holiday would've told it to go to hell. As it was, she was too busy trying to pry the metal from off her neck. Looking to her left, she could see the small worker drone that usually shuffled around harmlessly, dusting and vacuuming. But now its arm was slowly crushing her larynx, and every time Holiday tried to pull away or even sit up, it would pull her back down with a surprising amount of strength.

She was going to die. She was going to be asphyxiated to death by a hi-tech feather duster, and the thought nearly made her laugh through her choking. The hold tightened, and she made an odd, guttural noise as what little air she was getting vanished. Her eyes shut tight, tears forming at the corners from the pain. She wondered if it was pure fear that was making her hope that she'd submit to unconsciousness before expiring.

She felt something hovering above her in the darkness, the sound of steel slicing neatly through steel echoing in her ears. The grip on her throat gave way, and she greedily took large gulps of air. Her eyes fluttered open, widening at the sight of Agent Six propped over her, his katana still embedded into the floor where he had severed the drone's arm. Without a single facial twitch, he fingered her neck far more gingerly than she'd expect from him. After assessing the damage to not be enough to hinder her, he stood up, hauling both Holiday and his sword with him.

"We're leaving," he said, simply. Behind him, she could see that he had made short work of the lab door.

"_I don't believe you are,_" the same mechanical woman's voice that Holiday had heard earlier reverberated. "_I think you are going to stay right here._"

She didn't so much see them, as she did hear and smell them. The high pitched scream, and burning odor of the security lasers. Holiday had nearly forgotten those things had even been installed. She'd always thought they were too extreme, even with the possibility of escaped EVOs on the ship. Now more than ever, she damned herself for not arguing harder for them not being added to the ship's defense.

But even as she did this, Six had managed to reflect the necessary shots, both katanas now out and in ready positions.

"I said 'we're leaving,'" he repeated, an edge in his usual flat tone. "I keep my word." He turned his head slightly to Holiday. "Don't move," he ordered. "We're getting out of here."

If it had been anyone else, even Rex, Holiday would've had her doubts about that. But somehow with Six, it didn't seem so impossible. Watching him just stand there without hesitation in front of her calmed her down, made her even feel safe regardless of the circumstances. He said they were leaving together, and she believed him wholeheartedly. Even when the lasers went off again, Holiday did as she was told and stayed still, her faith in her partner stronger than her fear of the guns. As long as Six was there, she didn't have to be afraid.

Six had said he was one to keep his word. This day was no exception.


End file.
